


Re-Defined

by cherryvanillaaa



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Ain't no love here, Captivity, Declarations Of Love, Hatred, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Imprisonment, Obsession, Past Rape/Non-con, Self defining, Self-Reflection, Sense of Self, Sexual Slavery, defining moment, resolve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 03:52:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11661060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanillaaa/pseuds/cherryvanillaaa
Summary: You cannot be owned if you don't give in. You cannot be touched if you don't let them touch you.





	Re-Defined

**Author's Note:**

> "splendid"/adjective/:excellent, very good; magnificent; brilliant with light or color; radiant; use the adjective 'splendid' to describe something of the highest quality.

     The sun had been high in the sky that day, and now the moon was taking cues from the luster of the day. The desert sky could be black with stars twinkling, could be cloudy with no stars at all, or it could be like this; deep blue, with all the wonders of the night hanging overhead. She loved the stars and the moon, even admired the mist of clouds that passed overhead. In awe of the way the stars formed patterns up above, she wondered how they knew to do that. _Constellations_ , Miss Giddy called them. _Each one tells its own story_. She wondered if any of them had a story quite like hers.

     The moon tonight didn't hold as much comfort for her as it normally did. Probably because she was aware that soon her stomach would be round and full much like it. Swollen with life. In the stories she read, the women were always excited to find out about their motherhood status's. Most of them seemed to also be content with their situations beforehand; they'd actually been trying to get pregnant. The joy in this situation was one-sided, and that side wasn't her.

     Angharad leaned against the back of the loveseat in the middle of the dome where she had resided for a long time now. She was not here by choice, nor was her current dilemma her choice either. It was like her body wasn't her own anymore; it was now owned by someone else. _His property._ Traitorous to her own will, he now owned her inside and out.

     No. She closed her eyes against the punch of despair to her gut. No, she could not let herself think that way. There was still hope. There was _always_ hope.

     Gazing out at the stars through the roof of the dome, she wished with everything she had that this would not be her life. A sad prisoner of a man who held the entire wasteland under his thumb.

     It was quiet in the dome tonight. She was the only one there. Musing, she realized this was the first time she'd been completely alone since she'd been brought here. As much as she loved the other girls, it was nice to think in peace.

     Speaking of her friends; the four other woman trapped in here along with her, she wondered what they were doing right now. What _he_ was doing with them. He'd said when he had come in earlier to collect them that he'd be taking them to the gardens. A "field trip", of sorts; she remembered reading that in a book. Although this version was by far more perverted by their situation, their surroundings, their status's as _breeding stock_. He would never call them that, but that was what they were, the truth unfiltered.

     The more she thought about it, the more she thought that he had planned this out. Maybe he thought giving her time to reflect would help relieve whatever stress could be brought onto a newly pregnant woman. _How considerate._

     The vault door had cracked open with its normal hiss of pressurized air escaping, and he'd come in with all of his usual bravado; skirts flowing, hair waving in the air. Inperators in tow, they knew something was about to happen. Since discovering Angharad's pregnancy, he'd been in an increasingly good mood, and had been visiting them more often; visiting her. Considering that most of his free time was spent with them normally, needless to say they all felt even more smothered by his attention. All had left on this adventure but one; the Splendid Angharad.

     Even thinking it in her head, the name sounded ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as _Immortan Joe_. The world must have gone completely mad if no one had a normal name anymore. Not that she'd been around before the world had lost its mind. Every day, she wondered what it had been like. Miss Giddy had told them stories of authority figures back then; _police_ , she had said. _Cops, agents_. Their duties were to protect people from the scourge and the evil; to lock away the ones who would destroy and leave them there to comtemplate what they'd done. Imprison them. _I am neither, so why am I locked away?_ Angharad often thought. In that old world, in the alternate universe in her head, she hoped Joe would be locked away for what he'd done. Maybe then he would understand.

     She idly traced the scars on her forehead as she gazed out at the sky, thoughts flicking through her mind faster than the stars that sometimes shot across the sky. She wasn't quite sure how long she'd sat here, staring up at the sky. Reflecting on the past, the present, the future. She knew that if she allowed herself to wallow, she would slip further into this madness. Maybe she'd slip so far that she wouldn't be able to pull herself out. That was her worst fear: the possibility of  _acceptance_ of this life. The fact that she could soon be so broken and hopeless that she would no longer want for something better. For something she  _deserved_. Angharad knew, as much as he tried to brainwash everyone, that he was only human, just like the rest of them. He was no god. He was not immortal. He was no better than the rest of them. He was intelligent, he was unafraid of getting his hands dirty, and he was fearless, for the most part. But he was still a  _man_. Nothing more. This thought was the one that never failed to strengthen her resolve; to re-ignite her will to remain steadfast. _I will never bow to you,_ she thought, though he was not near. Perhaps he could still hear her, could still feel her resistance no matter where he was. She hoped it haunted him.  _I do not bow before liars and thieves_. Closing her eyes, Angharad tried to hold onto those thoughts, repeating them like mantras in her mind. 

     It was then that she felt a change in the air. Literally. Opening blue eyes, a slight crease formed between her eyebrows as she turned her head to glance around the room. She was still alone. But she felt  _something_. She rose from her seat on the soft cushions, the bottom of her dress sliding back down her legs till it reached the tops of her knees, the tight wrap around her bosom still secure. What had changed? 

     Turning all around, her eyes settled on something across the room, and she realized that what she had felt was a draft. Her sky blue eyes lit on the sight before her. The rest of the room was dark, save for the light of the moon beaming down from the open ceiling windows. This allowed her to see perfectly the cracks of light coming from between the door that led into this place where she was held prisoner. Just a small crack, but it was enough. 

     The vault door was open. 

     


End file.
